Only a few minutes ago
you were at the window I found
coaxing the world into your life
with the he he’s become,

having moved away from you
to a future locale,
a better car, his address on your phone,
prospects at the invention factory.

Time machines don’t work.
But, perhaps if he stands with you
by the window,
touch until untouchable,

I’ll be gone from here,
to leave you in the hands of
invention’s
older me.